


Hawaiian Shirts and Time Turners

by Thymepasses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, BAMF Hermione Granger, Battle of Hogwarts, Because lets be honest, Character Development, Drama, F/M, Gellert Grindelwald Being an Asshole, Gen, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Hermione Granger Needs a Hug, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hogwarts, Hogwarts 1940s, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Humor, Knights of Walpurgis, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Music, Music is only involved because the author is obsessed with it, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Parseltongue, Period Typical Bigotry, Period-Typical Sexism, Romance, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Slow Romance, Teenage Tom Riddle, Time Travel, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, fix the whole magic wizarding system, hawaiian shirts, hopefully a happy ending, its very flawed, third person, tomione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymepasses/pseuds/Thymepasses
Summary: In January of 1998, Harry said The Dark Lords name. He was captured and the Dark Lord and co. took to wiping many muggleborns’ minds of magic. Including the Brightest Witch of her Age, Hermione Jean Granger.Two months later Hermione Bathilda Wilkins is approached by a stranger (aka Ferret boy) and then pushed through time.Now, an 18 year old drop out who is trying to understand the pieces of flying memory in her brain while trying to overcome her many many phobias is stuck at a wizard school in the 1940s. Somewhere where Hermione's love for  Hawaiian shirts is not acceptable. On top of it all, she has to keep an eye out for the creepy high-cheek-boned head boy who probably has something to do with the dark lord Ferret boy was talking about. And cheekbones is DEFINITELY is watching her.Beginning slightly based off “AMERICAN ULTRA” the movieNote: I don’t know what is catagorized as “graphic violence”, Mature because I figure the amount of cussing is not PG-13 (and because Riddle is dark and sadistic)
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 23
Kudos: 72





	1. Stop- Spice Girls

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy!  
> Also, they are British. I am not, I have never been to Britain so the culture might be bit off. Please write me with any inaccuracies!  
> Harry Potter and universe does not belong to me. Plot is mine, and OCs.  
> I hope you are excited for the next chapter! Please comment and leave kudos!  
> With Love,  
> Thyme  
> P.S. first fanfic in a LONG time so I would love feedback.

Hermione loved hawaiian shirts, they were cheesy and sweet. They reminded her of … someone. She looked up from her books. She was writing again. She sat on her stool. And swivelled. The “Gas and Go” was empty and it was nearing midnight. She was just waiting of Marky to come and take over. Then she would get to go home, her soft and cozy home. She shivered in delight at the thought.  Hermione Wilkins was an 18 year old drop out, living in a small, dead end town. She had asthma and too many phobias to count. She tried anyway. It was how she tried to go to sleep, because she was scared of going to sleep. She was afraid she would get petrified or something and wouldn’t wake up. 

_As her eyes would dip she would think…_

_I’m scared of not waking up…_

_I’m scared of a flurry of cats…_

_… or any cats really..._

_I’m scared of leaving town…_

_I’m scared of being poisoned…_

_I’m REALLY scared of libraries- they’re suffocating._

_I’m scared of falling down…_

_I’m scared of rejection…._

_I’m scared of suddenly choking up slugs…_

Her mind would wander from that until sleep would overtake her. Then the dreams would come, spawning yarn of wizards and witches, of ghosts and lockets, of pottery and weasels.

Hermione yawned as she thought of her bed and frowned at her notebook. It was covered in scrawl. Her dreams were great inspiration for writing, if she ever remembered them. Sadly she didn’t. And it wasn’t like her writing was good-or coherent. She would be writing something and everything would dissipate and she would be back to square one. The words on the page were just bored scrawling of a girl.

“Hermy!” Marky ran in. He was soaked, holding a newspaper uselessly over his head.

“hey Marky,” She stretched and looked at the clock. 23:47 it read. He was late by 7 minutes.

A stranger entered after him, he was wearing a black hoodie. He wasn’t wet at all but he didn’t even have an umbrella. Huh,  _ I wonder how they make umbrellas.  _

She looked at him, trying to figure out what she thought was odd about him. She was just thinking about it a second ago.

Marky shook her concentration. “Hey do you mind manning the front, I really need to…” he gestured down at himself.

She nodded and looked back down at her notebook.

The perfectly dry stranger had disappeared into the isles. She could see him, or rather his hood if she strained her head but she didn’t really feel like it.

She doodled a star at the edge of her page.  _ I wonder what it would be to— _

Hermione Wilkins lost her train of thought.

Her brain tried to figure out the lost thought but her curiosity was met with determined white noise and she looked up.

The dry stranger was there and nearly shocked Hermione out of her seat.  _ That was sneaky, like a ferret _ .

“Granger” The stranger growled and took off his hood. He was pale from eyes to hair. It was stunning and, if Hermione was being honest, quite off-putting.

Hermione looked behind her, was there someone behind her.

She stared at his pale face quizzically.

“Hermione,” he slowly started and she nodded. “the Death Eaters are coming.”

She kept nodding. Maybe this would make sense if she kept listening.

“The death eaters are coming, Hermione. So many of them. Including Fenrir and Bellatrix.

“we have to go; I have your wand. Can you run?”

She made a face at him.  _ He’s odd. _

“Do you understand anything that I am saying?” His nostrils flared and his forehead creased.

“No… are the Death eaters a band?” Hermione offered. “Listen, I don’t even know who you are, but-”

Suddenly a wooden stick was in her face.

“No! You listen-“ he stopped himself and breathed. His voice was softer but no less insistent as he spoke again. “I’m sorry, but you  _ have _ to listen to me, okay now- Memento omnia, memento caritate, memento mori” He repeated, his voice was practiced and desperate. Still, there was a quiver.

A spark flew, like the star Hermione had doodled and it bounced off her forehead.

He looked at her expectantly. “Okay, Granger—”

“Who’s Granger?” She cut in. Her name was Hermione Bathilda Wilkins. Granger sounded weird like a combination of ranger and --- well it just sounded like a variation of ranger.

“You are.” He looked at her like she was the crazy one and continued. “Listen to me, Pigs can fly and horses die. Brooms are sweeping and books are singing. Ronald Weasley is Alive.”

Hermione’s heart flipped. Wait, why? Why would she like someone named after weasels? But she did think of  freshly mown grass, new parchment, spearmint toothpaste and red hair. It reminded of her of red quilts. _ I should really get a new quilt -- _

“Granger! Snap out of it” he waved a hand in front of her.

“Listen man-“

“Draco, my name is Draco-“ he stopped before continuing.

“Draco, whatever. You’re really freaking me out and I really don’t know you. You obviously have someone else in mind because you don’t know me.”

“Yes I do. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger, your 18. You are a witch and a brilliant one at that. You are the brightest witch of your age! You’re smart, really smart and brave. Extraordinarily so!”

Hermione nervously chuckled. “No, my name is Hermione  _ Bathilda Wilkins.  _ Yes I’m 18, but I am  _ a human _ . I’m also not brilliant or that brave. I dropped out of further education, man. If I was brilliant  _ or _ brave why would I be working at a ‘Gas and Go’?!”

“Because they wiped your memory”

“Pfft, you’re crazy!”

“No, you're obliviated. You were with Weasley and Potter and you were looking for something, something to defeat the dark lord. I don’t know what. Then the death eaters found you. That was this January. They brought you to” he lowered his voice, “you-know-who, the dark lord and he took Harry. Potter. They wiped your brain and some other Mugglebornd and put you in the Muggle world. They wiped your memory and,” he gestured with his hand and his crazy-man-stick. “Put a block on your mind so you wouldn’t be able to figure it out. You have phobias, right?”

“A lot” she murmured. This was an interesting story, she could sell it if she could write it.

“Right, those were all put in place so you wouldn’t be returned to who you were before the spell.” 

“Hermione Ranger”

“Granger, yeah. You have a mental block, that I just removed, I knew how because I put it in, that was blocking your focus and critical thinking.”

She stared at him. She wanted to say something, it was at the tip of her tongue, but it didn’t come so she shut her mouth. Stop by the Spice girls was blaring in the store. It made the silence between the two people even louder.

“They placed you in this town and now they’re coming to get you. Potter is  _ alive _ and he escaped. They think he came to you. He didn’t, he doesn’t know where you are. No one does”

Hermione felt her heart relax.  _ Why?!  _ She thought to herself.

“How do you, then?” 

He shrugged and shook his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another of his crazy-man-sticks. 

“This is yours. I stole it from my Aunt Bella.”

He placed it in her sweaty palm carefully.

Draco sighed with relief. It was only for a second because then there was a pop.

“C’mon, we have to go.” He was scared as he grabbed her arm.

He yanked her around the corner. 

“No, why?” She struggled.

Then a purple light came and shot through the ceiling.

“Come with me,” he repeated, “if you want to live.”

She complied with his yanking. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the stick. Maybe it was a wand..? It couldn’t hurt to keep it safe.

He pulled her through the glass doors and she moved her tiny legs as fast as they could. Her bushy brown hair swayed with each step.

Draco’s hood was on again and it was so dark you couldn’t see his face.

It was so dark Hermione almost missed the two men in the parking lot. 

One of them yelled “Expelliarmus!” At Draco and he blocked the flying light shot at him.

The masked men ignored Hermione, even with her red Hawaiian shirt with too many birds and flowers on it.

They men were throwing light-  _ spells- _ she internally corrected herself bossily, at Draco and he was blocking both of them. They inched forward and Draco pivoted backwards. Hermione could see the clench of his jaw. 

The men were getting closer and closer, focused solely on Draco (or Ferret boy as Hermione was calling him internally).

Hermione gripped her want and as Draco went for the kill for one the other one got ready to strike.

It was like in slow motion. Even the rain drops had slowed their descent. Oh, he was going to kill Ferret boy. No, that won’t do. No, that wouldn’t be good.

Hermione raised her wand and yelled “Stupefy!” Her voice was strong and clear. The most powerful Hermione Wilkins has ever been.

Masked Man #2 fell to the ground with a shudder and Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth.

_ What WAS that?! _

  
  
  



	2. Mr. Sandman- The Chordettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco run, Hermione learns more about “her” “past”.

Chapter 2

_Hermione raised her wand and yelled “Stupefy!” Her voice was strong and clear. The most powerful Hermione Wilkins has ever been._

_Masked Man #2 fell to the ground with a shudder and Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth._

_What WAS that?!_

* * *

Ferret boy, Draco, turned to her. He was grinning wildly. “You see! Granger..” He started to walk towards her and she stepped back.

“I, I, um.. What.. was, um, that,um… What did I do?” Her eyes were widened and her voice stuttered.

“You saved me, with your blasted Gryffindor courage,” his hands gripped her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“So, you’re not crazy?” Hermione Wilkins asked, she desperately wanted him to say yes. She wanted him to laugh in her face, explain how he orchestrated this chaos, then leave with his current hopeful smile replaced with a nasty malicious one. 

One she could punch in the face.

Suddenly, like a shiver down her spine, Hermione felt 14 again. 

“No, Granger, not the last time I checked.” 

And he hugged her.

Of course Hermione had been hugged before, like from Darryl from the coffee shop when she found his wallet, or when crazy Mrs. Smith welcomed her into the building, but not like this. Because, this ferret boy held onto her like she was his savior, like if he let go he might actually go crazy. Hermione couldn’t say this was the worst hug, when she was in his embrace she didn’t feel like an insomniac drop-out (a form which didn’t suit her, actually). Now, Hermione felt like she had started finding a way out of a haze. One not brought on with excessive coffee consumption.

Granger or Wilkins, she wasn’t that good with feelings. She patted his back sporadically even as she leaned into the hug.

Their touching moment, or victory, did not last long. Hermione heard a cackle and went white as a sheet.

Ferret boy’s eyes were wide and he grabbed her hand. He started running, dragging the 5’6” “Gas and go” employee with him.

_Am I fired_ ? Hermione thought, _The hole now in the ceiling was sort of my fault…_?

_Oh man, I’m leaving Marky with a mess_.

“Marky!” Hermione yelled, and stopped. Draco almost fell over, a gold chain falling from his pocket. The rain was still pouring, Hermione could feel puddles in her bra. _Why do I wear a bra?_ She mused quickly

“That’s not my name, my name is-“ Ferret boy started. His eyes were aflame.

“Draco, I know. Marky is the guy taking my shift over!” She started to move back to the wreckage, but Draco’s unrelenting grip did not let her.

“He’ll be fine! Come ON, we don’t have time for this!” Draco snarled. Hermione did not back down.

“But, the dead eaters- the Cannibals, if they’ll hurt me then they’ll hurt him.” She exclaimed.

“First off, no. They’re called death eaters. Second, ‘Marky’ doesn’t matter. YOU matter right now, if you are taken, you will die, and any hope of destroying a Dark Lord, who is basically a NAZI, will be gone.” He yelled and yanked her again. Hermione’s arm really hurt from the continuous yanking so she relented. She started walking, but very slowly. She was unsure what was happening, but it seemed too chaotic for a random March night. 

“The Cannibals are Nazis?” She said. _Fuck Nazis._ Her brain quickly muttered.

“AGAIN, they’re called Death eaters, and yes, essentially-“

“Marky’s JEWISH!” and then Hermione started running back to the “Gas and go”. At this point they weren’t even out of the parking lot. Hermione might not have remembered her years in Gryffindor but she was no less stubborn.

“They don’t care about that, he’s safe. You’re not. Now, stop tugging on my arm we must go. Now,” Draco said. Hermione heard a couple wooshes and several pops faintly. It was hard to hear anything in the rain. “Hermione, I will explain this once, and quickly. You are a muggleborn witch. Muggles are people without magic. The DEATH EATERS serve the dark lord, or you-know-who. They think magic should only be those with pureblood. I’m a pureblood, that means-“

“your parents had magic- I get it”

“I’m not done,” They were hurrying into the unknown darkness. Both Draco and Hermione instinctively swung their wands and Hermione muttered Lumos. Hermione could see Draco’s smirk as he continued, “The Dark Lord practices dark magic. His followers want to get rid of muggleborns, they HATE muggleborns. They think muggleborn witches have dirty blood and that they steal worthy purebloods’ magic. But the dark lord will leave Muggles- like Marky- alone.” He turns to her now, eyes wild.

“What about they guy they think is with me, Harry Pottery?”

“Harry Potter. Now be quiet…” he added, but he continued his speech nonetheless. “the Dark Lord was supposed to kill him. I thought Vold- the Dark Lord had already killed him. But apparently not.” Draco sighed “what the dark lord really wants is power, to be all powerful. And to have power over death. ”

“Is your family…?” Draco shoved Hermione behind a bush as she asked him. A twig shoved into her thigh.

“…yea. Actually you’re about to meet on of them” He spoke softly, trying to change the subject.

“Then why are you helping me?” She spoke softly. There were footsteps nearing along with a couple of cackles. 

“Because I don’t want complete and utter darkness. And I can’t see a positive future where you-know-who and his followers are ruling.” His voiced was drenched with guilt.

_So you were essentially a Nazi_ the doubt of Draco hung in her mind like a stone.

“I’m also here because I have a plan. Or someone gave me a plan. Dumbledore told Snape who told me what to do. I honestly am not sure what I am doing” He laughed in a hushed tone, “But it can’t be worse than the future we’re tumbling into. I can’t be part of this awfulness. And this plan” He breaths, “depends on you.”

“This is crazy,” Hermione muttered. She was scared, this couldn’t be real. _No, this couldn’t be real._

A brutish man appeared. Covered in scars and as big as a car. _Hey, that almost rhymes_ Hermione’s brain thought, _almost_. 

Hermione’s heartbeat sped up, she wanted to run. _Why am I scared? I don’t know who he is…_

But fear really struck when a crazy eyed woman came to view. Suddenly Hermione couldn’t breath. Hermione felt Draco trembling as well. The Lumos they previously had on was now off.

Nox, the countercurse came into her mind.

Maybe if we stay here… they won’t-

“INCENDIO!” a voice yelled and a fire started not three feet away from the hiding teenagers.

“EVERTE STATUM” Draco yelled and jumped up, sending the brutish man flying back. He howled agrily.

_That dude’s a werewolf_ , Hermione abruptly knew, _while that explains why he’s scary_.

“DRAKIE!” The woman yelled, her eyes were lined with kohl and her voice was shrill. “What are you doing?! LEVICORPUS!”

“Protego! Silenco!” Hermione cursed doubly. _Okay, okay, these spells are coming out of the woodwork_. Draco was protected, and the silencing charm on the woman, Bellatrix, was a nice touch.

Bellatrix looked at Hermione, incensed and raised her wand.

“I’m sorry Aunt Bella,” Draco yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!” and the crazy woman fell to the ground. Still there were two other death eaters and a werewolf to take care of. Draco grabbed Hermione and ran. This time as they ran with curses flying over them Hermione had no hesitations. 

They ran to the woods and once behind a tree Draco turned to Hermione.

“Granger,” he shook, “trust me.” He wrapped a gold train around her palm and took it’s charm off.

An hourglass.

_It’s a time turner_. The smart-witchy-know-it-all part of her told her.

_I’m going back in time_ ? _Oh no…_ The scared-‘Gas-and-Go’-employee part of her said.

Actually, that was all of her. Time travel was not a good idea unless you were Marty McFly. Or Bill and Ted _. Or- that wasn’t the point. The point is they’re not me. You can’t do this, a part of her desperately hissed. You can’t even leave town. Whenever you step into a Library you’re overwhelmed, whenever you see your neighbors cat you have to spend 15 minutes calming down. Where’s your inhaler? Face it, you can’t do this._

Draco pulled out a piece of paper and placed the hourglass on the ground. 

_Well its not like I have a choice_! She retorted mentally. Hermione felt profound disappointment that a part of her felt like she couldn’t do this, even if it was profoundly crazy and she didn’t fully understand it.

Draco started chanting “Qui non habet tempus dolet. Tempus adorabis ea patienti. Da nobis ut est retrorsum loco movere deinceps. Aperta aperta mittere reducite. X, XX, XXX, XL, L, LI: LII: LIII. et ut non nobis, ut nos Hogwarts”

As he did this he had a jar of black sand that her dragged around in a circle. It started to glow, right as a blast of water shot past Hermione’s head. 

The Cannibals had caught up to them. The golden ring that once was sand started to rise. It spun and spun while Draco and Hermione tried to defend themselves.

Draco was much better at this than Hermione. He knew what he was doing, she was relying on a basic instinct she didn’t know she had. Draco was dueling wildly, but he was barely any competition for the psychos that surrounded them.

Hermione saw that the golden ring had turned into a portal at around a 45-degree angle. It was waiting, and Hermione grabbed Draco’s hand. “C’mon.”

They were about 5 feet away from the portal. The rain had stilled, but Hermione was still soaked. She was cold and unsure how to move the five feet for it seemed impossible. Hermione and Draco were just barely able to block all the spells while staying in the same place.

“DRAKIE” Bellatrix, the psycho witch, was back.

She started a fire around them. It was coming for them. Not to mention, Bella did not slow down her slew of curses. Draco and Hermione ran towards the portal best they could. 

Hermione threw charms as she tried to protect Draco and herself. She was not paying attention to the portal.

_I will not let him die, we have to go through together. I can’t do this by myself, no Wilkins ever could do something like this._

“Hermione” Draco yelped “you can do this. Find Dumbledore, and the dark lord’s real name is T-“ she didn’t hear his words because she was too focused on the duelling. More specifically on the spell that struck Draco in the shoulder. Another spell came aimed with deadly aim for her Ferret boy. She protected him with a spell as she wa hit (or bit?) by something on her ankle. Hermione has no time to recover because then Draco shoved a book into her arms and pushed her into the portal.

“You can do this Granger, don’t trust—“ she didn’t hear what he said.

The portal was closed and Hermione hit her head on the frosted ground. The snow and cold encased her. God, she was tired.

She had been up since 2:30 because of nightmares, and now she had just been chased by Nazi Cannibals.

She was _EXHAUSTED._ Plus, she had Mr. Sandman by the Chordettes stuck in her head.

Hermione decided to get some sleep, fears and reservations frozen in the January air.

* * *

Just after midnight on January 4th, 1945 there was a disturbance on the grounds of the 

Hogwarts Castle.

Tom Riddle decided to investigate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you like! Was bit of a filler chapter but it had to be written ❤️. Please leave feedback if you can. Thanks so much for reading! Remember to leave kudos❤️❤️❤️ Much appreciated❤️


	3. My Heart Tells Me-Charlie Parker

_Just after midnight on January 4th, 1945 there was a disturbance on the grounds of the_ _Hogwarts Castle._

_Tom Riddle decided to investigate._

* * *

Tom was patrolling late at night. He skulked proudly, patrolling for miscreants that might have been out of bed at such a deep hour into the night. Normally, there would be no need to have patrolling this late but classes had just resumed since winter break and Riddle’s idiodic schoolmates seemed to think that meant that here was no need to heed any rules. 

Riddle relished the time he had to walk alone. Riddle was supposed to have a partner, but Bogenia Flint had turned out to be _so_ tired, and _who was Tom M. Riddle_ if not a _complete_ and _utter_ _gentleman_.

It had been quite easy to drug her at dinner.

It was just practice, and one of restraint. Tom just wanted to know he could, and the peace and quiet as he skulked around the grounds for subversives was nice as well.

It was boring,though. Not that he wanted babbling Bogenia with him, but the strolling could get quite dull. He wanted a puzzle, he wanted something to mull over. Something to destroy _or create_. Something to become a master of. He’d decided this at approximately 21:34pm. Now, it had just passed midnight.

As the day went from January 3rd to 4th, Riddle was thinking of the uses of aconite, also known as wolfsbane when-

_CRACK_

_Woosh_

_Thump_

And the buzz in the air stopped. Riddle hadn’t realized it had started.

Riddle’s stature tightened. _What was that?_ _Is it bad news for me?_

_No, no, It probably has nothing to do with you. You’re just being paranoid. Now, go, check it out. You’re Head Boy for Salazar’s sake, it’s your job. –And, who knows, maybe it’ll be useful, maybe it’ll be your new challenge._

Tom’s feet speedily made their way from the halls to the snowed-over ground. He was desperate to find the new mystery before anyone else.

As he neared the landing spot he slowed. He strained his neck at the imprint.

A cold wind threw shards of frost in his stark and striking face. At that moment Riddle was glad for the charms he placed over himself to keep himself warm and dry. He found himself in the dark leering over an dark imprint. He cast a spell for light and kneeled over the form. In the snow’s hole was a girl. A more accurate description would be an unconscious-dirty-and-nearly-frozen female. Tom examined the specimen objectively. Interesting, she wasn’t wearing a skirt. Instead a pair of blue jeans stuck to her thighs, soaked by snow.

Her chest rose and fell slowly, like her body was questioning whether or not to continue to breath. Her lips were starting to turn blue from the snow and Tom cocked his head in question.

 _What a peculiar girl, who would be here without casting a warming spell. Maybe a muggle. A daft one, gauging from the disarray of her dress._ Tom chuckled haughtily at her expense; he was not yet sure what he was going to do with this new body.

On her barely rising chest was a red button down shirt with flowers and birds. It was muddy, and had started to be soaked through by the snow.

_What a silly vapid shirt. She must be daft, indeed._

Tom’s eyes drifted to her hands. In one was a wand. _Not a muggle,_ he thought disappointedly. The things he could have done with a worthless new toy.

In the other, a gold chain was wrapped around her pale hand.

 _Curious_ , he thought.

He was just about to examine the chain when he heard shouting. He whipped his head around to see Dumbledore, Dippit, and a frantic (and barely clothed) Slughorn.

Tom quickly cast a warming spell on the girl. It was the thing expected of the upstanding Head Boy.

“Tom m’boy!” Slughorn greeted cheerily, his red cheeks rivaling apples in roundness and color.

“Professor Slughorn, Headmaster Dippit, Professor Dumbledore,” He greeted and bowed his head. Dumbledore nodded in response. “I was finishing up my rounds when I heard a noise and found this young lady here. As you can see I have cast a warming spell upon her.”

Dumbledore cast a levitation charm on the girl and she started floating.

“Thank you Tom,” Dippit said, placing a hand on Tom’s back. “It-rather she woke us too. Probably half of the castle.”

“You should see the Slytherin dorms, I left the prefects in charge. I had to make sure that everything was alright, especially with Tom” Slughorn chuckled. “What about you Albus? Did you check on the Gryffindors?“

Dumbledore turned his intense attention away from the floating girl. Tom noticed that Dumbledore now was gripping her wand, it had probably fallen. The chain, however, stayed tightly wound.

“I ran by, everyone still seemed asleep. I made sure Ms. Prewett knew to keep everyone calm.” He said. 

Josee Prewett was an infamous insomniac, which made her patrolling quite acute. She was a good prefect, although a raging Gryffindor, for a 5th year.

Dumbledore continued, “I’m glad I did, this girl seems to be in dire need of help. But, Horace, we have more than enough. We will take this girl to the infirmary, you would be much more a help to go to your house and then get some rest.” Dumbledore made a slight gesture to Slughorn’s indecency. The latter probably didn’t pick up on it.

“Good plan, thank you. Albus.” Slughorn nodded somewhat bashfully and then turned to Tom, “Do you want to retire as well? It is quite late.”

Like Riddle would let this opportunity leave him. Riddle could not leave this new mystery, no. He found it, so it was his to solve and stay with.

“Thank you Professor, Sir, but I feel indebted to this lost girl, as I was the one who found her- and I feel a duty to make sure she is well.”

“That’s quite honorable Tom” Dumbledore said with a raised brow. It was the first time that night Dumbledore had spoken to him directly.

“Thank you, sir” Tom nodded.

Soft jazz started to float from inside the castle, a couple of students breaking curfew. 

Slughorn sighed. “I’ll get those miscreants when I go back in.” He broke away from the group and marched towards the music.

Tom looked at the floating girl. She had a tumbles of curls which floated around her. Like a dark halo.  
 _An angel?_ A very quiet voice of his heart questioned.

 _No_. His proud logic snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos appreciated! <3


	4. Close to you- Frank Sinatra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are the other 2/3rds of the golden trio up to?  
> Meanwhile, Hermione has just woken in 1944.

_1998-_

Ron Weasley was cold, tired, and miserable. It was a great state for someone who didn’t know where either of his best friends were. He had barely escaped through a series of chaotic blunders from the death eaters about a month and a half ago. This victory of leaving with his life, wasn’t a victory to him, because Harry and Hermione hadn’t escaped with him. Now in March he felt like he did something horribly wrong. He was begging the universe that they were alive and well, but every second felt like torture. The tiny voice in his head accusing him of their death got louder by the hour. 

It was not pleasant. It was even worse that Ron had left in the fall and now the universe had once again separated them from him. _You don’t belong._ His doubts whispered, _and even if you do, what have you done? You left them, your two best friends. Imagine the pain they are going through… Or what if the pain has stopped… what if you left them for dead?_

Luckily, the snatchers hadn’t identified him in the so the burrow was safe but Ron was never home long, for fear that the (now corrupt) ministry would find him at home, and then reign terror on his parents. Ron hadn’t stopped searching for Harry and Hermione. He would follow any whisper, he used the Deluminator as best he could, but he couldn’t find them. That’s what Ron had been doing. The past week, there had been chaos. Well, more than usual. Apparently _a prisoner had escaped._ Apparently, _The Dark Lord was furious_. 

Ron thought maybe it was Harry, but that didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t You-Know-Who just have killed him. He had searched and searched, but yesterday Molly had managed to contact him. 

“Ronald Weasley, 

come home this instant! Your sister is coming home from Hogwarts today for spring break and YOU will be there to greet her. You need to rest, you will be no good exhausted and starved. 

Sending Love, 

Your Mother 

XOXO.” 

So here he was, laying flat against his bed, counting the cracks in the paint in the ceiling. 

He let out a breath. His eyelids drooped. The eggshell colored cracks were dizzying. His bed was absorbing, it was so soft, so nice, so inviting. A serene second seeped into Ron’s soul and he felt himself smile weakly.

He shot up. No, no, he couldn’t be happy when his friends are likely suffering. 

Ron buried his face in his sweaty palms. He felt like his breaths were trying to tear from his body, they were uneven and haggard. 

_I wish Hermione was here. Maybe it was Harry that escaped…? But if so where’s Hermione. I miss them._

“HE-ELPP!” A shrill voice screamed. Ron rushed to his window. There, hiking across the lawn was his sister. Ginny Weasley had a ragged body slung across her shoulders. 

“Bloody hell!” He yelled. 

“HELPP!” She yelled again, the body wasn’t moving but Ron was. He ran out of his room and jumped down the stairs and out to the front lawn. He rushed over to Ginny, and as he neared his eyes widened. 

_Is that- is that_ “Harry?!” He yelled and caught him. 

“ _Wingardium LeviOsa”_ Ron muttered and Harry started floating. He started pulling him back to the house. 

Ginny calmed her breathing and Ron could see a couple tears on her cheek. 

“I found h-him… in the woods, he was barely breathing, I-I don’t…” She scrambled. 

Ron placed a hand on her back to steady his sister as they made their way up the house.. “It’s okay Gin, its okay. we’ll figure it out.” His voice was assured a promise, like a promise. 

He hoped to Merlin that that promise would be fulfilled.

* * *

At 7 am on January 4th, Tom Riddle came back from freshening up in the Head Boy dorm and went back to the hospital wing to stalk the strange girl. Well, stalk was a harsh word. She hadn’t woken up yet. But she was about to.

Riddle brought Avery with him that morning. Avery was a good and prejudiced follower and also was curious about the strange girl who had disturbed the whole of Slytherin. 

When they got there, Madame Sinistra was there along with Dippit and Dumbledore muttering around the girl.

“... suffered a concussion…. extensive travel…” Riddle managed to hear.

Avery knew this was time for him to take his leave. “I’ll go get us some breakfast.”

Riddle nodded dismissively and Avery disappeared with a group of gaggling Hufflepuffs. They were huddling around a muggle radio that one of them had probably rigged and it played “...Close to you, though you're far away.You'll always be near, as though you were here by my side. No matter where, in my dreams, I'll find you there. Close to me, sharing your caress. Can't you see you're my happiness…” With pansy lyrics it made the girls swoon. It would have been whimsical if not so muggle. Tom let the song set for a second before moving towards the adults and their musings halted.

“Mr. Riddle,” Headmaster Dippit greeted. “Did you get enough rest? Madame Sinistra said you were loyally watching over our new guest all night.”

“Enough to complete my studies well enough” Riddle answered with a joking smile.

It was fake of course, but people liked seeing a _humane_ Tom Riddle. Not a _power hungry_ one.

* * *

Hermione dreamed of 16. Hidden rooms and silver otters. Idiot boys and boughs of lavender. There was a boy.. No? Two? One freckled… funny, no?… black hair… scar on his forehead… green eyes… he twisted to a younger self. 

She was 14. The black haired boy was here. There was a hourglass and Hermione wanted- no she needed- more classes. Wings and pumpkins. Black dogs. _Git._ Pettigrew. Umbridge. Lemon Drops. _Horocruxes_ . Ginny. _The Sword_.

_Werewolves-_

Ferret Boy-

“Draco!”

Hermione’s eyes were open. She tried to close them and go back to sleep but the overwhelming morning light pounded on her eyelids. She shyly opened them.

 _Where am I?_ She was not at her flat. She remembered her night before and cringed. Draco, Death Eaters, Time Travel, _Oh my_. The room had more hospital beds, for what she could tell. Hermione couldn’t peer around the looming figures of her visitors.

Around her were two men, a woman, and a _very handsome_ boy about her age. 

_Danger,_ the Granger part of her shrieked. 

_Pretty_ , the Wilkins part of her dumbly lusted.

She slowly sat up and readjusted her back to the form of the hospital bed.

 _No, no, I know you_ . She focused her attention to one of the bearded men. _Lemon drops_ , the words softly resounded in her ears.

Other than knowing one, the two old men around her were both white haired and fairly wrinkled. Nearly identical in passing.

“...Miss?” The woman said and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione whipped her head to the matron's hand.

“...yes..” Hermione answered weakly. Maybe her facial muscles tried to smile but promptly failed.

“Do you know who you are?”

_Seriously, just starting right off the bat with that one. Until, like, last night I did! Wait, where am I?_

She looked at everyone’s clothing.

_When am I?_

_Is that proper grammar?_

“Where am I?” Hermione swallowed. Her nose itched like crazy. The room was cold and stone, very aesthetically pleasing

“Hogwarts School for Witches and Wizardry. We are currently in the hospital wing” The old white man that she didn’t know answered.

 _Ferret boy mentioned Hogwarts_.

“I see. Um.. What’s the date?” She asked warily.

“January 4th” The pretty boy said. His eyes were raking over her analytically. _No human should look at another human like a toy_ , her brain muttered.

“1944.” The old white man that she knew from a past life continued. “That is Madame Sinistra, Headmaster Dippit. Tom Riddle, and I am Professor Dumbledore.” 

Hermione’s eyes widened at Dumbledore and Draco’s words resounded in her ears like heavy bass drums. _Hermione, you can do this. Find Dumbledore, and the dark lord’s real name is…._

_Okay, I’ve done something right, I found Dumbledore. Well, rather, he found me but still._

“What happened?” Hermione squeaked.

The Headmaster responded this time. “We were hoping you could answer that for us. But, There was a noise that woke the whole castle-”

“Sorry” Hermione interrupted.

“-it’s okay- and we found you lying in the snow. Mr. Riddle did.”

“Was I alone?” She said. Hermione knew the answer, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. Hermione noticed that her clothing had changed. She was no longer in her red hawaiian shirt, that she had loved with its adornment of birds and beautiful flowers, but instead in a clinical hospital level robe.

“Yes. We found your wand. 10¾" long, made of vine wood, possessing a dragon heartstring core.” Dumbledore said and placed the wand in her hand. It was cool to the touch, but as she held it in her hand she could feel a connection buzzing between them. 

_This is weird._

Dippit spoke “You also had in your other hand” Hermione looked at her other hand. “A gold chain. Do you know what it is? We were unable to remove it, you were clenching it so tight.”

Hermione shook her head.

The way Dippit and Dumbledore played ping pong with answering her questions was dizzying.

“Thank you…”

Riddle started to speak. _No, you shut up. I don’t like you and your perfectly sculpted cheekbones. Dear lord. Will your voice sound as good as your face?_

“Sirs, if I may...” _Fuck, his voice is better than his face._

Riddle looked to Dippit- _not Dumbledore_ \- for approval and Dippit gave it.

Riddle looked at her. He challenged her in her hospital robe and Hermione did something unlike her. Or at least unlike Hermione Wilkins. She stared back. She straightened her back and rolled back her shoulders. _This beautiful mystery will not bully me with his judging eyes_.

“We need to know your name, miss. We don’t know who you are or how you happened here. For all we know, you could be a spy for Grindelwald.” 

_What is a Grindelwald?_

Dumbledore eyed Riddle “Don’t say that, Tom.”

“Nevertheless. We need your name.”

 _Which one?_ Hermione deadpanned. _The one that Ferret boy gave me or the one I might’ve had placed in my brain by Nazi Cannibals_.

His eyes bore into her and she stared right back. Their stares were trapped, Hermione felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up. His grey eyes were sharp and unrelenting.

“Your name, miss” he sneered.

Hermione started shaking. _What the fuck?_ She couldn’t do this. “Wilkins” She spat out. 

What had been the last thing Draco had said to her? _You can do this Granger, don’t trust—_

_That’s right Hermione, you can’t trust anyone exclude Dumbledore. You don’t know who the dark lord is, you don’t know-_

“-first name, Ms. Wilkins?” Tom said and cocked his head.

“Monica” _Where the fuck did that come from. I mean, it fits- wait- why does it fit?_

“Monica?” Riddle asked. _Yes, like the FRIENDS character, except FRIENDS has aired yet. Has Jennifer Aniston been born yet?_ Hermione internally responded, but externally she simply nodded.

“Middle name?” He questioned.

“Minerva-” cats and magic. _No_ .. “-Ginerva” red hair and brooms. _Fuck_.

_Well, Hermione, you made your grave. Now, lay in it._

_“_ And my friends call me Monnie.” That was true enough. A couple people called her ‘Mione’. Mione and Monnie aren’t that far apart, name wise.

Riddle spoke again, “So your name is…”

“Monica Minerva Ginerva Wilkins.” Hermione said firmly.

She looked at the woman, the boy, and the men and challenged them to correct her. Hermione had no idea what was happening, what she had done, or what to do, but why should that stop her? She was Hermione Jean-Bathilda Granger-Wilkins, borne Sept. 19th 1979, now 18 in 1944.

* * *

Tom Riddle was excited. What a fabulous new mystery, a new challenge. _I will find you_ , the words from the song floated into his head. 

She had been so blatantly lying, and Tom _had_ _to_ _know_ what she was hiding.

_I am looking forward to tearing you apart and reaping your secrets ripe._


	5. 5- Come on Eileen- Dexys Midnight Runners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione sort of starts settling in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the last chapter a bunch before posting this one. If you read Hermione going to the hospital ward last chapter then you are good.

“So your name is…”

“Monica Minerva Ginerva Wilkins.” Hermione said firmly.

She looked at the woman, the boy, and the men and challenged them to correct her. Hermione had no idea what was happening, what she had done, or what to do, but why should that stop her? She was Hermione Jean-Bathilda Granger-Wilkins, borne Sept. 19th 1979, now 18 in 1944.

* * *

Tom Riddle was excited. What a fabulous new mystery, a new challenge. _I will find you_ , the words from the song floated into his head. 

She had been so blatantly lying, and Tom _had_ _to_ _know_ what she was hiding.

_I am looking forward to tearing you apart and reaping your secrets ripe._

* * *

  
  


Matron Sinistra had never seen such a determined sick patient. The girl had woken and after both Riddle and Dumbledore had left (because classes had started) and after staring into space for a good minute had gotten up and made her bed, still staring in a space. It was like her mind was in another a place, another time.

* * *

Hermione felt like a shell. Her insides felt cold and empty, except for the intense fireball which hissed and spun tumultuously in her stomach. This was probably to distract from the fact she hadn’t eaten in 12 hours and had gone through a time portal. Her ears were marble, cold, immovable gates to her mind. Her mind was trapped, she saw what was going on but she didn’t process. Her body was on autopilot, letting her mind try and figure out what the fuck was going on. And of course, what in the bloody hell she was going to do.

Her hands made the hospital bed neatly but her mind was a mess.

 _You’ve done it now, Hermione, or rather MONICA. Seriously, MONICA WILKINS-_ Hermione’s mind stopped belligerently criticizing her- Monica Wilkins- Monica Wilkins and Wendell Wilkins- 

_Mom and Dad_ \- Australia- _Obliviate_. The fireball in her stomach turned to sludge.

“Miss Wilkins” a voice said from behind her, the Nurse- Matron Sinistra said and Hermione saw stars. _Astronomy_.

Her arms, that she was using to lean on gave out and she was kneeling in front of the bed tears running down her face, her marble ears were buzzing.

“Are you okay?” said the young Matron. She placed a hand on Hermione- _Monica’s-_ shoulder. Hermione’s head wobbled but her face said different. A pained expression was frozen on her fair features.

_I did to them what those monsters did to me._

_‘The nazi’s wiped my brain of my friends.’_

_I wiped two people’s brains of their daughter._

_Maybe I’m the real monster._

_…_

_….the_ silence in her brain was _deafening_ to clicking clack _of the Matron stepped away,_

_…_

The silence slowed as a memory rose.

 _I did it to save them, protect THEM from the Nazis. It was an act of protection, not an act of aggression_.

 _And that makes all the difference, even though the act was the same?_ The voice inside Hermione asked.

 _Yes, or else I’ll go crazy. Because I cannot be a monster._ Hermione responded. Peeling herself from the ground, she could feel the bruises on her legs forming from her time crying on her knees.

_Then prove it. Prove your not a monster by saving people, helping people, doing the quest._

_But I don’t know how._

_You're Hermione Granger, you’ll figure it out._ And she felt the sunlight of a smile from a redheaded boy.

As quick as it came it left. The tears were a steady stream but Hermione was no longer lost in her own mind. She rolled her head back and looked for Matron Sinistra. She needed to talk to Dumbledore. 

Because Hermione, rather Monica, did not know what the fuck she was suppposed to do. 

Hermione found Madam Sinistra, who had brought her food and clothes, eaten and clothed. Wondered where her clothes were, specifically the hawaiian shirt, wondered how she had been bathed. The answers were, respectively, burned (because the pattern of the shirt was _horrid_ and _garish, but Dumbledore has your wand, he took it after the meeting_ ), and magic (you should know dear, you _are_ a _witch_ , are you _not?_ ).

Hermione had nodded dumbly and asked where Dumbledore was. Sinistra had given directions for his office during lunch but had ordered Miss Wilkins to stay there for the meantime. To the Matron’s visible surprise Miss Wilkins hadn’t wandered off. It seemed Miss Wilkins was also surprised at this fact. Madam Sinistra also brought with her a copy of the Daily Prophet for the girl, who would be alone for a couple of hours. The Matron wanted to make sure she wasn’t bored for that time, rather she wanted to make sure the patient stayed sane after her teary breakdown.

Miss Wilkins sat hunched over on the bed tracing the golden chain that was wrapped around her hand. Madam Sinistra placed the newspaper and clothes on her tightly made bed. It now reflected the making of the unused hospital beds, which were most of. Miss Wilkins’s, certainly, did not look in use. Sinistra placed food on the side table of the young patient’s 

Miss Wilkins changed into the robes Madam Sinistra got for her. They were a bit beat up, but there was a war going on.

“Thank you for the clothes” the girl murmured from behind the divider. 

“It’s no issue,” Madam Sinistra said tending to another medicinal cart.

Hermione looked down at the underclothes and robes. They were old and faded out, the kind of soft that comes from being worn out but they were in good shape. There weren’t any holes or stains, like they had been removed magically.

_They probably had Hermione, this is a school for witchcraft and wizardry. And you, in fact, are a witch._

_That’s unbelievable…._ Hermione shook her head as she put on her shirt. She breathed in and out, calming herself. Something Eileen, an 55 year old American who hadn’t gotten the memo about the 60s ending, had told her repeatedly with her gravelly voice. She woud bring up the few things she wanted at the ‘Gas and go’ and wave her cigarette around. Her eyes would wander as she gave some wise, but unprompted advice. “Ya see sweethart, it's all about the state of the mind, if yur mind thinks yur calm then you are calm, and when yur calm and your head’s clear, then nothing can stop ya.” She then would then take a smoke and Hermione would give Eileen her twinkies and candie hearts. Eileen would always smile coyly and say “Yer a doll, Molly” even though she knew Hermione’s name (apparently there were no good songs about Hermione). She would always leave humming the same Dexys Midnight Runners song. 

And now, Hermione would probably never see her again.

Hermione’s jaw tightened. _Breath in, breath out. Don’t panic. Follow the plan._

The plan, which Hermione had come up with as she traced the chain that Ferret boy had given her. _But why did he give it to me?_ The plan was more of an outline. HFind Dumbledore

  1. Find out why future him wanted me sent back in time
  2. Figure out who the Dark Lord is
  3. Do what ever future Dumbledore wanted me to do
  4. AND figure out who the hell I am.



Then the plan for what to do AFTER the plan was

  1. Go home
  2. Make sure Ferret Boy Draco is okay.



The plan was made with the intention of letting Hermione relax in such a strange environment. Which was good, in Hermione’s mind, since apparently she wasn’t even trusted with her _own_ wand. _But what if you can’t go back to the future?_ A scared logical part of her whispered.

_Of course I can. These- these wizards are all smart people. I mean Tom Riddle was so uppity that he must have a brain to match that ego. And if they are smart then they should know Newton’s third law. ‘Each action has an equal and opposite action’. If I can go back then I should be able to go forward._

_Except that law is for Physics, Hermione. Not time travel._ The same logical part of her pointed out.

_Time travel has to have some math involved!_

_If you can’t go back you are going to need allies. Friends. Try talking to the Matron, she seems young enough to strike up a conversation._

All versions of Hermione coiled at this. She was not a social person. Whether Wilkins or Granger she was not a people person. 

But she needed to so it was time to be brave.

Hermione came out from the divider which she had been changing behind.

“How long have you been matron..?” Her voice was shaky but it got the question was out. Hermione sat down on the bed.

Madam Sinistra turned and eyed her cautiously. She was refolding a blanket from a bed.

“Only for about a year,” her voice was lightly accented and reminded Hermione of the smell of basil. “The previous Matron was scared that Grindelwald was coming for her- she was a muggleborn, you see- so she disappeared two summers ago. Well she disappeared the day after school started and they needed a replacement.”

Hermione said nothing but nodded, staring at the ground. She didn’t really know what to say, The words stopped before going to her brain. Madam Sinistra probably didn’t want anything to do with her.

“-we’re spread pretty thin-” Madam Sinistra surprisingly continued. She seemed to want her patient’s attention and so Hermione obliged. 

“-during this war, you see. So even though I’m only TWENTY I am now the Matron.” Madam Sinistra chortled apprehensively.

“Wow,” Hermione said, “that’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Indeed.”

“Do you think that you’ll stick with it after the war.”

“I don’t know, I mean, the muggle’s just ended theirs but war just never seems to end.”

“It will” Hermione said firmly. _Wait why? She didn’t know that! Not really…_

“Well,” Madam Sinistra giggled, “I guess, I mean It would be nice to travel. I mean I’m young, I have at least another 100 years left. I like healing but maybe I don’t want to do that for the rest of my life starting now. My title might be ‘matron’ but what about this” she motioned to herself “says matronly? I mean my brother is engaged but am I really ready for my life to start? I was in Hogwarts three years ago. I don’t want to start getting old right away.”

Hermione laughed along with her. 

A conversation sprung. Hermione had surprising knowledge of healing and Madam Sinistra- Seraphina- had a surprising young soul.

Time flew, both women hungry for a honest conversation with an unjudging stranger. It seemed Madam Sinistra had been starved of any conversation with anyone her age and Hermione craved some normal peaceable conversation after a night of crazy. Even if the peaceable conversation was with a _witch_.

“Seraphina,” Hermione started “um- I have a question.”

“Sure Monnie,”

“Look, I know it is weird with a capital W but um, just um just humor me okay. I- I went through a portal. Right right.”

“Yeah, I remember, woke me up from a nice dream” the matron smiled amicably.

“And through that portal- I think I hit my head.”

“True…?”

“Um, who is Grindelwald?”

Seraphina’s eyebrows popped off her head.

She rushed over to Hermione’s side and placed a hand on Hermione’s head.

“Oh Monnie, I didn’t know your memory had been hurt. I would’ve tried to fix it.”

“Can you?” Hermione cut in. Could her new friend be the answer to half of her problems? 

“Oh- well- I’ll scan and see if there is anything I can fix- but- maybe not.” Seraphina cautioned Hermione.

“Do try, scan- scan away.”

Seraphina took out her wand and waved it over Hermione's head. Pink sparkles danced around her. They stayed pink but then suddenly flickered to purple before turning pink again.

Seraphina’s eyebrows furrowed.

“It seems you were under a memory loss spell. But- it seems its been removed.”

“Been removed?” Hermione said. She thought back to when Draco had aimed his wand at her head. What had he said? His desperate voice had warbled out ‘ _I’m sorry, but you have to listen to me, okay now- Memento omnia, memento caritate, memento mori’_

That had probably been the reversal. 

“ _Oh_ ” Hermione’s voice was small. “So that means you can’t do anything?” What if she never gained anymore parts of Hermione Granger. What if she was lost forever?

“No- no one can I think, now you just have to wait for your memories to return. Being around familiar faces would probably help.” Seraphina placed a hand over Hermione’s. “What was wiped?” 

Hermione froze. No, she couldn’t say everything. No, no, that wouldn’t work. “...Pain” Hermione said. Truth clothed in the form of lies sat behind her lips and Hermione spoke them. “My- my family. Was taken-taken by the Dark Lord and his- his following. I can’t remember the pain or the happening.” That was true enough. But then Hermione tensed. What if there was no Dark Lord. What if she had just outed herself.

“Oh, I’m sorry that Grindelwald took your family.” Seraphina offered sympathy.

So Grindelwald was the Dark Lord? No no that wasn’t right. But something triggered Hermione’s memory and she was 14 talking about dementors. Talking to a black haired boy about being careful.

 _Of couse she knew he wouldn’t be._ She could see where that Hermione was standing. That was Hermione Granger. Werewolvesrats. There was Madam Pomfrey- not Madam Sinistra Pumpkinjuicechocolatedementors. The real Hermione was with Pomfrey, Monica didn’t even know her name. She wasn’t hermione.thefakeHermionewaswithSinistraandthatmeansthatHermioneisn’trealbutifsheisn’trealwhereisshe. Sheshouldn’tbeheresheshouldn’tbehereshedidn’tbelongheresheshouldn’tbehere.

Hermione then vomited onto her new friend’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sinistra is a real Wizarding last name. Professor Sinistra is the astronomy teacher in the books. I figure this Sinistra is like her great aunt. Also, yes this was a bit of a filler but I think it is important to have well rounded characters and also a stable foundation to build a story on. Don't worry- it'll be worth it! Mwah! Please comment and kudos.


	6. Can't Find My Way Home- Blind Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione talks with Dumbledore, Tom gets an idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a chapter! Sorry for the lack of update, but I am really excited for this chapter!

_She wasn’t hermione.thefakeHermionewaswithSinistraandthatmeansthatHermioneisn’trealbutifsheisn’trealwhereisshe. Sheshouldn’tbeheresheshouldn’tbehereshedidn’tbelongheresheshouldn’tbehere._

_Hermione then vomited onto her new friend’s lap._

* * *

Tom’s morning classes were overshadowed by the newest visitor of Hogwarts. _Monica Wilkins_ , such a muggle name. He began thinking that this girl was not a witch but simply a muggle who had gotten on the wrong side of a powerful wizard. She had probably lied about her name because she was scared. She should be. Such a poor mind, thinking she would leave hiding behind a blasted golden chain unscathed. Tom was magical, he was powerful and he would expose the bushy-haired wench for the fake that she was. 

Unless, of course, he saw that she _was_ in fact magical. Which would make her worthy of Hogwarts and any attention received from the heir of Slytherin. 

_Those eyes, though_ he thought. So bright with passion and determination. She had not shied away from Tom or vyed for his approval. Instead, _Monica_ he had faced him head on. 

He wondered what her real name was, because, she certainly had been lying about it. _Monica?_ The name had come out of her lips before she had time to register it. She had been shocked by it. Her middle names had come out of nowhere. What parent would give their child _two_ middle names that _only differed_ by a _letter?_ Impossible. Or maybe her parents were daft along with _Monica._

As he finished up with his last class before lunch he decided to stop by the infirmary. Just to check in with her, see if she had already confessed to being a muggle or a spy for Grindelwald. 

Tom wondered if that she were a spy if he could be the one to take care of her. Make up something about being dutious to the protection of Hogwarts or whatever and then he could do whatever dastardly deeds he wanted to. The experiments he knew the knights of Walgpuris wouldn’t survive.

He walked through the stone castle, smiling cordially. It was false, but he would not be accepted as the monster he truly was.

As he rounded the corner he stopped right before the entrance. He watched the frantic motions of Madam Sinistra as she cleaned up what looked to be vomit from a shaking Hermione. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry...” The Wilkins girl chanted.

Sinistra nodded and said “It’s okay Monnie. I’ve had worse. Do you know what triggered the vommiting?”

Monica Wilkins looked up suddenly and her body stilled. Her eyes seemed to be taken over by another being, her shoulders relaxed and like it was a reflex she said “Vomiting is often a symptom of an underlying cause such as pregnancy, food poisoning, motion sickness, a hangover or other sickness. Food poisoning may occur if food is incompatible with consumer (persons have allergens or food is rotted). Vomiting may also occur if a person feels extreme stress or fear, if a person experiences a high or extraneous form of instant travel for first time (such as apparition, floo travel, time turner, or portkey.)” Monica gasped at the end of her recitation. She hadn’t taken a breath the whole time

“Wow,” Sinistra says, “That was like straight out of “Mitigations and Medicines””

 _That was straight out of ‘MItigations and Medicines’_ Tom thought.

Monica’s eyes retrained themselves on the ground and her body continued shaking.

“I need to see Dumbledore.”

“Monnie, maybe-”

“No, I need to see him now.”

And just like that a brilliant idea hit Tom. No matter what the reality of this girl, he knew how to keep an eye on her.

 _To the king_ , he thought and left the shaking question and incompetent nurse.

* * *

Hermione’s hair clung to her face as she wandered through a stone kaleidoscope. Her feet were clay as her ears rung. She was looking for Dumbledore. She had so many questions, she needed answers, and he was the only one she could trust. Anyone else, everyone else could be the dark lord. Her face blanched. What if her new friend was the dark lord.

_No, Hermione, that’s dumb. Its dark LORD, not dark LADY._

She swallowed the ball of anxiety as she found the door which would lead her to Dumbledore. She knocked on the door once.

She pulled her hand back to knock again and as her fist swung towards the door the door opened causing her fist to go knock into the Professor she was hoping to find.

She pulled her hand back and looked up into the sparkling eyes of the only man she could trust.

“Miss Wilkins,” He said calmly, “I believe that there is something that you want to discuss with me.”

Hermione nodded.

He opened the door further. “Come in, then.”

Hermione stepped in and walked around the cramped office. Colorful books literally flew from shelf to shelf, from side to side.

Hermione’s hand shook from anxiety. Fear was struck to her core. Her hands shook. It was so closed in, she was suffocating. Was the room spinning or only her mind? The room was closing _Ms. Wilkins_ and her feet were clay. How could she move? _Ms. Wilkins_. She couldn’t, she was stuck. She was trapped. She was stuck.

“Ms. Wilkins” Dumbledore said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. The room stopped moving, but the books didn’t. “Are you alright?”

“Um.”

Dumbledore motioned for her to sit on a orange patched up armchair. She sat down and a moving patch with a mermaid caught her eye. The mermaid waved. Hermione waved back.

She looked at the old man. _He’s younger than when I last saw him._ _Younger than when he died._

“Sir. There is something I need to discuss with you.” Her voice did not crack, but the words warbled.

“Something you cannot discuss with the headmaster?” He said.

“No. No. Sir, I cannot discuss this with anyone _but_ you.” She said.

He nodded his head for her to proceed.

Hermione looked at her hands. The golden string wrapped around her left. She fidgeted with it for a moment. “Sir, I-I know this sounds insane. I’m-I’m pretty sure _I’m_ going insane, but I’m-I’m from the future.”

She looked at him. Dumbledore raised his brow.

“I was born in 1979. I come from 1998, and it is now 1944. That’s 54 years I’ve gone backward. I don’t even think my parents have been born. I would know- but um- that leads me to the second piece of this insanity.” She let out a nervous chuckle.

“I don’t know who I am, Sir.”

“Miss Wilkins-“

“-also my name is-“ Hermione interrupted.

Dumbledore raised his hand to stop her from continuing. “It would be best if you refrained from telling me your full name, so if we meet in the future, it will not complicate things. Now, Ms. Wilkins, please tell me everything. But refrain from names best you can. “

So Hermione recounted best she could the chaos from the night before. She went from being benign to having migraines of memory. In her recounting she renamed Draco ‘Ferret Boy’ and Bellatrix ‘Crazy Lady’. She told him of her apparent ‘blood status’ and the redhead boy and the one who wasn’t dead. “Harry” she named him.

Her voice was hallowed and rough. Her eyes were tired and despairing as she recounted the story. Her hands shook from nerves as she waved them madly to accentuate every twist and turn of the tale.

“… so” she said after telling everything, everything to this man. “You believe me, right?”

“Yes Miss Wilkins, I do.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“The Dark Lord?”

“Yes-”

“No.”

Hermione’s heart fell to her stomach.

“But I believe you do.” He said tentatively.

“I know I know, but I don’t know what I know and what is the point of knowing if you don’t know what you know?!” she cried out.

“Well then you must remember. Hopefully being in Hogwarts will bring back memories of your academic career, and lead us with a hint.”

“You have no idea who it could be?”

Dumbledore heaved a sigh, “I do have my suspicions. However, the title of a dark lord and the therefore consequences are too great to push upon someone unless absolutely sure.”

“Well who are-“ Hermione was cut off by Dumbledore’s rambling. He, apparently, hadn’t finished.

“-and even if we do find this person, is it even moral to punish them for crimes not yet committed. While we know they will commit great sins, would it be a greater sin to harm an innocent?”

Hermione looked at the wizard and spoke firmly, “Sir, are you okay?”

Dumbledore came out of his own world and looked at the amnesiac in front of him. “Yes, Miss Wilkins. I have been struggling with my own villain recently.”

“Grindelwald, right? The Slytherin boy, Tom Riddle, mentioned him.”

“Yes, Miss Wilkins. Grindelwald, at this time, is a great villain. He believes in only magical strength. He believes muggles are below anyone with magic. While it seems, from what you have told me, the Dark Lord believes in blood purity and looks down upon muggleborns. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir. Has Grindelwald killed many?”

“Yes, Miss Wilkins. He has killed many muggles and is currently on the run.”

Hermione’s hands began to shake again. “He’s very powerful, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Miss Wilkins.” Hermione flinched.

Hermione’s memory sputtered as she remembered a tent. They were talking. Words had logically floated out of her mouth, correcting the boys.

Hermione looked down at her hands. _Remember_ , she willed herself pushing past the pain of the headache pounding on her skull

“His wand is the strongest, right? The oldest wand- no no- the-the elder wand.” She spat out. A tear was forming on the corner of her eye. She stopped trying to remember and the pain subsided.

“Why, Miss Wilkins you are already to remember.”

Hermione shot up to her feet and stared right into Dumbledore eyes. “Sir, I am going to be very respectful. But I cannot let you continue to call me that. Miss- Miss Wilkins. It will not help me remember. And I-I am a Muggleborn, so you aren’t going to meet my ancestor here. And since everyone- _everyone_ I meet is going to call me that. I’m not going to be able to regain my memory. I already won’t see anyone I’ve known. Except maybe you, and if you call me Miss Wilkins- instead of my name when I was here- here before- I mean in the future- I’m not going to be able to remember,” She breathed, “Sir.”

“Miss W-“

“No, Sir. My name is Miss Granger. I won’t tell you my first name, but in private, for the love of Merlin,-” _Merlin? Where did that come from_? “- Call me Miss Granger.” She stood her ground firmly even though her clay feet trembled.

“Okay, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore drawled. Hermione guessed he wasn’t used to having anyone, especially a child speak to him like that.

Hermione fell back into the worn orange chair. She looked at the mermaid again. She didn’t wave this time. Hermione looked back at Dumbledore.

“Well Miss Granger, now we have another thing to discuss.”

“Which is what, sir?”

“What you will do while you are here.”

 _So Dumbledore doesn’t_ _remember who the Dark Lord is or knows what I am supposed to do._

Dumbledore continued. He picked up papers on his desk fidgeted with them. “I assume you would be alright with enrolling you in classes for the amount of time you are here.”

“Yes, the dark lord is here, so I should be able to find him.”

“Alright, we need a good backstory. You are Monica Ginerva Minerva Wilkins, you are a half-blood, let’s say?”

“Sure, sir” Hermione thought a blood purist would probably be more open to a half-blood than a muggleborn.

“We’ll present this to Dippit and you can be sorted in his office. You were fleeing from Grindelwald, you and your father. A muggle, whose name you have. You were homeschooled. This was because of your father being a muggle, and so the muggle wars have had much affect on the both of you. Do you know what is going on in the muggle affairs at this point in time, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, sir”

“Well anyways, Grindelwald and the wars finally caught up to you. You and your group were caught and tortured for the information on something- you can’t remember.”

 _What a gruesome thought_ , Hermione shivered, _and the way it falls out of his imagination, how comfortable he is with the idea of violence._

Oblivious of Hermione’s mental commentary, Dumbledore kept going, “While you were there you learned crucial information, which is why you are in constant contact with me, that a friend accidentally erased when he erased the memories of torture- as a mercy of course. Anyway, you cast a spell to come to Hogwarts, because you heard that it was the safest place and now you are here.”

“What about my friends?”

“Pardon?”

“The ones you said I was running with.”

“Dead.” Dumbledore said and then amended, “but you are unsure of the state of your father.”

There were a couple things that didn’t exactly make sense with that plan, Hermione thought, but she didn’t want to argue with him so she nodded along.

He stood up and motioned for her to follow him. “Come on Miss Wilkins, I must introduce you to Headmaster Dippit before my next class.” He spoke evenly as he opened the door. Hermione wrung her hands, the chain sparkled from afar.

“Oh, sir.” She stopped.

“Yes, Miss Wilkins?”

“Um, Madam Sinistra said you had my wand?”

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore reached into a pocket on his robes and pulled it out. He placed the seemingly inconspicuous piece of wood in her hand.

“Thank you, sir”

As they headed to the headmasters office, Hermione’s mind went into a haze.

One meeting, and her plan went to shit. _Shit_.

_No problem, Hermione, just come up with another one._

_Okay, okay, I found Dumbledore then what? She mentally reviewed the list_

  1. Find out why future him wanted me sent back in time
  2. Figure out who the Dark Lord is
  3. Do what ever future Dumbledore wanted me to do
  4. AND figure out who the hell I am.



Actually, the plan hadn’t changed much. At all, really, she just needed to renumber. So maybe the list looked more like this.

  1. Figure out who the dark lord is
  2. Remember who I am
  3. Figure out what Dumbledore wanted me to do
  4. Do whatever Dumbledore wanted me to do



And then she added one more.

  1. Go home, safely.



_Home, what is home? I don’t remember home._

Hermione felt herself sink back into a pleasant memory. The burnt red carpeting in a library. The smell of disinfectant and cinnamon. Her father had put on a record as he was working at his desk. Hermione remembered his checkered socks inside brown slippers. She was young and flipping through a book that she couldn’t necessarily read. The song had ended, but Hermione didn’t want it to. The needle had lifted from the vinyl. Hermione had watched lift from the record and then gently fall down right where it needed to repeat the classic rock song.

_‘Come down from your throne and leave your body alone…’_

Hermione walked into a wall.

“ _And I’m wasting away”_

“Miss Wilkins, we have arrived.”

“ _but I can’t find my way home”_

Hermione nodded. Shook herself from the pleasant mystic memory. She acknowledged the giant stone griffin and immediately said “Lemon drops”

Dumbledore looked at her oddly and instead said “Warbeck”.

The griffin spun and a spiral of stairs appeared.

“Come on,” Dumbledore said and started up the stairs.

Hermione followed him and the pair disappeared.

Unknowing what was coming, or who would greet them at the top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Warbeck is for Celesta Warbeck, a popular singer in the wizarding world and a alum of Hogwarts. I thought that might be a nice password for Dippit. Also, um, I love this song 'Can't find my way home' its a classic and I highly recommend checking it out.  
> Leave kudos and comments!  
> Once again, Thank you so much for reading!


	7. My Baby Just Cares For Me- Ted Weems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione shows her magic and Riddle gets intrigued.

_The griffin spun and a spiral of stairs appeared._

_“Come on,” Dumbledore said and started up the stairs._

_Hermione followed him and the pair disappeared._

_Unknowing what was coming, or who would greet them at the top._

* * *

Hermione and Dumbledore ascended the stone stairs. As Hermione reached the top, Dumbledore opened the ancient chestnut door and entered. Hermione took a breath before breaking past the archway into the headmaster’s study.

Inside the study, Dippet sat at the desk. Hermione stared at the space. Completely entranced by the space. It was an immaculate office, nothing out of place. It was quite the juxtaposition to Dumbledore’s flying books and homely chaos. Dumbledore calmly stood before the stairs, next to a vertical support. The arches emitted a strong ‘gothic revival’ vibe, in terms of arch-itecture style.

 _Heh_. The pun reminded Hermione of the red head friend. The one she couldn’t put her finger on.

 _But clearly,_ Hermione thought, _Granger is smarter than Wilkins, because 24 hours ago I knew nothing about architecture._

The office was stone, grand, filled with books, and the every object within had been obviously placed with meticulous consideration. Even Dumbledore’s assumed stance fit into Dippet’s aesthetic. The person, that Hermione eyes finally landed on was the one thing that did not fit, as hard as it tried to.

Tom Riddle was staring at her, as she suspected he had been since she had landed in the courtyard.

Hermione met his gaze. He seemed to be everywhere since she got here. And know “

She studied his steel eyes. Perhaps in the future he knew her. Perhaps he could remind her of her past. She looked onward until Riddle shifted his stare.

Hermione looked at Dumbledore for instruction. He motioned her towards him and Hermione complied.

“Headmaster,” Dumbledore spoke and nodded.

The Headmaster, Armando Dippit, returned the nod and Dumbledore continued. Hermione watched Dippit, her own brow furrowing. Wondering if

“This is Ms. Monica Wilkins. She is a half-blood and on the run from Grindelwald’s forces. She was on the run with her father and a couple of magical aware muggles, with their magical kin. Her group was captured and she managed to escape, coming to Hogwarts because, it is of course, one of the safest places in the world.”

Hermione could see that Dippit was chuffed with this description.

“-Unfortunately, she has lost most of her memory…”

Hermione could feel Riddle’s gaze return to her skin. The feeling was hot and heavy, like unnecessary amounts of blankets on a summer’s day. As the gray eyes examined her, _again_ , she could feel hairs on the back of her neck prick up. She was under a microscope.

 _GO AWAY!_ Hermione wanted to yell. Riddle’s presence was anywhere she was. His questions were wrapping around her broken self, choking her like a snake.

 _I am not your toy_ , she wanted to scream at his face, _leave me alone!_ _I won't be able to focus or do anything I’m supposed to do with your questions leashed around my neck._

“Miss Wilkins- Did you hear me?” Dumbledore said, breaking Hermione out of her anxious trance.

“No sir, Sorry.” Then, in mirroring the incompetency of her brain her voice warbled out the next few words, “Could you please repeat your previous statement?”

Ignoring Riddle's gaze best she could, she focused on Dippit.

“Miss Wilkins,” the Headmaster started out slowly, “I just want to say how profoundly sorry I am for your losses, your troubles and the unfortunate circumstances under which we meet.”

Hermione blinked. _Wow, that was- kind of him._ _And shocking, it seems like he’s the first wizard who can take the time to be in the moment._ _It seems being alive for nearly 300 years old has taught him something,_ Hermione thought. _How do I know that?_

“I hope that we can offer you protection and security after the ordeals you have gone through. And Miss Wilkins, I can assure you, Hogwarts is the safest place for you, and Dumbledore is one of the greatest wizards. He will- I am _sure_ \- help recover your memories, which will in turn hopefully help bring down Grindelwald. Something, I think, that will brighten your mood.”

“All our moods need a little brightening, Armando.” Dumbledore chuckled solemnly.

“Too true, _Albus_ . Luckily for us we have _you,_ to defend us.” Dippet responded dryly.

Did Hermione detect some pointed tension between the two? Maybe…

Dippet returned his attention to Hermione.

“Now, Miss Wilkins, I know you have a lot of questions, but sadly we have to return Albus to his classes, It is almost that time. But I do have some good news for you.”

He stepped down from the elevated ground and motioned for Riddle to follow.

“Mr. Riddle is truly an _exemplary_ student. He is Head boy, you might know. He also helped reveal an terrible plot against Hogwarts last year. I won’t trouble youwith that now, but Mr. Riddle was the one who found you. You might remember, in the snow, in that wretchedly loud button-down-” _excuse you,_ Hermione thought “And now, he has offered to be your guide. I think that this will help you get adjusted for the short time you stay with us. He is very clever and can answer any questions about Hogwarts you might have.” Hermione didn’t really have time to process what he had said about Riddle before-

“Where will I be staying?” She blurted out. _No no_ , she shouldn’t have done that. _First thank him and then ask your question. Don’t be rude._ She could hear a grandmother scolding her. _Was it Granger's?_ “I mean to say firstly, thank you so much for all that you have done for me and for offering me a safe place to rest- only where will be my safe place to rest?” Every muscle in her body felt clamped together.

“Good thinking, well we have a couple more minutes to speak on this matter. I don’t have anything for this afternoon. Albus?” His tone shifted when he said Albus. Like, he knew Dumbledore was competent and intelligent but there was a lack of respect.

“My students will be ecstatic if I am late,” Dumbledore smiled, then amended “maybe even unruly. Tom, could you go keep an eye on them? I don’t believe you have a class this period.”

 _Oh right_ , Tom Riddle, Head Boy, Slytherin, and Her _Guide_.

She looked at him behind Dippet for how to act. She would meet civility with civility and anything less with ferocity.

However he was not civil. He was distinguished. _How expectable_ , Hermione thought.

He had a brilliant smile on. So different from the calculated look he was watching her from. She pasted on a pleasant smile to match.

“Miss Wilkins, I hope that I can be of such good use to you while fairly and proudly representing the Hogwarts name.”

“Well, Mr. Riddle, I am glad that I have such an accomplished guide. I’m sure that I will learn much from you.” She did not offer her hand to fully allow the illusion of trust, instead shoving it into her pocket, next to her wand.

“See you soon,” Riddle said and exited the room, his eyes lingering on her for just a second more.

Dippet waved for the three of them to walk to a corner of the office. He took out and waved his wand and a couch appeared for the three of them to sit on.

Dippet sat down first and the two Gryffindors followed. Dumbledore spoke first, “I was thinking that Miss Wilkins could stay with the Hufflepuffs for her time here. I am sure that they would be welcoming. And as well, I think it would be wise if we immersed Miss Wilkins in classes. A idle mind could do her no good.”

They spoke of her like she was not there. Part of her was deeply offended at this, another relieved that she did not have to watch what she said. She relaxed on the burgundy couch and watched the academic adversaries spar.

She took out her wand and a record from Dippet’s walls came out and started playing itself on the tip of the wand- neither wizard paid her any mind.

“I agree with some of that, Albus. However, you should watch to make sure your house stereotypes do not overtake your character? We shouldn’t place her somewhere she doesn’t belong. Speaking of, how do we know where her academic level is?”

 _Top of the class_ , the redhead exclaimed to her proudly. But he wasn’t talking about himself; he was proudly talking about her. A warm feeling sunk to her stomach.

“Well Armando, the only way to figure it out is to test her. Due to her damaged memory- and lack of formal teaching of course- she might not do the best on tests but I suggest we place her in the basic classes just to see how she fares. If she does badly or well we can adjust her schedule.”

“But Albus, you forget! She knows no one here. And you know how children can be cruel, she could be ostracized.”

“We could still place her with the Hufflepuffs...”

“No, we should place her with those that are LIKE her in mind and characteristics. As for the classes, well Mr. Riddle has already volunteered to be her guide. I very much doubt he would protest anymore time. We start her off there and then as she’s adjusted to her new house we can transfer her classes. That is, if we should not have already solved her memory and returned her father to her.”

“Do you really think its wise, Armando, to expose her so much to Riddle. I know he is your favorite but that much attachment and dependency on one person-”

to return her father and her life to her, having someone her own age to guide her will be beneficial.”

“What about someone her own _gender_? We do not want to seem to promote fornication with the promotion of their attachment.”

“Fine, Albus, but instead of placing her with the Hufflepuffs she will be sorted and I will speak to the 7th year girl prefect of the house to guide share classes with her in the afternoon. After that she will go to you on- let’s say Tuesday and Thursdays to help try and recover her memory. My reasoning for these day are to banish a teenage girl to spend her Fridays with an old man would be an abomination and on Wednesdays we have Astronomy.”

Dumbledore exhaled through his nose. “Fine.”

_Did Granger seem like the kind of person to do things on Friday nights? Wilkins certainly wasn't._

Hermione’s record stopped spinning and fell lamely into her lap.

“Good” Dippet responded and got up. He walked to the other side of the large office and Hermione was once again left with Dumbledore.

She watched as the record once again floated away. 

“Miss Wilkins, please be careful of Mr. Riddle, he is not all that he seems.” Dumbledore warned in a low voice, his eyes were elsewhere, at the window, watching, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was the kind of under-the-breath statements that Hermione knew no follow up questions were allowed for

Hermione’s mind immediately shot to Draco’s words. _“_ _You can do this Granger, don’t trust-”_. Was that it? Was Tom Riddle the dark lord?

Well, then was it good or bad that she was stuck with him? She could watch him if she was close to him. _Or he could watch her._ Suddenly, any relaxation she had found on Dippet’s couch evaporated. She could feel Tom Riddle’s eyes on her. He watched her like one might watch a new puppy. With amusement and nonchalance.

 _Why is it always the beautiful ones?_ She thought. Because indeed Tom was beautiful. If he was the Dark Lord, would that mean she would have to kill him?

 _Calm down,_ she told her nerves. _He might not even be the dark lord. He may just be a narcissistic, sanctimonious, academic with ulterior motives. Just like the rest of his gender._

She closed her eyes and breathed. She felt the wand in her pocket and pulled it out. Calmly looking at it she wondered if it would cure her asthma.

_If you even have asthma. That could have been a creation of the Dark Lord when he created my false life._

“Professor Dumbledore?”

“Yes, Miss Wilkins?”

“Could you test to see if I have um, asthma? If that is even a thing in the Wizarding World.”

“Sometimes for Muggleborns. The symptom I believe you are referring to is refered to as a scaly-lung. Wizards generally have better bodies, stronger at fighting illnesses.”

He waved his wand over her and she saw a golden outline of lungs appear quickly.

“No, Miss Wilkins, it appears your respiratory system is healthy as can be. May I inquire to what brought you thought that?”

“No reason, professor. Just wondering.” Hermione smiled softly.

Dumbledore nodded to this response as Dippet made his way back. In his hands was a old and worn chestnut box with ornage gold corners.

“Well, Miss Wilkins, this is the sorting hat. We will place it on your head and it will then share, often exclaim, which house you belong to. The houses, are based on personality traits, such as the American school Ilvermory.”

“Thank you sir,” Hermione said. Was Dippet testing her? _He’s explaining everything so explicitly! It’s almost patronizing, but he seems to have good intentions…._

Dippet opened up the hat and Hermione was 11 again and Mccongenal was telling them. “First you’ll need to be sorted into your houses. Gryffindor…” troll, quidditch, locks, mirror, sunlight and keys. The Stone. Quirrel.

Quirrel, quirrell, she knew a quirrell and Quirrell knew- was? No- part of? Maybe- the dark lord.

She was brought back to reality, involuntarily. 

“I know Professor-” she said to Dippet. Her brain felt fuzzy. “I know”

* * *

Hermione paced the hall. She was waiting for Riddle, the smug mystery, but her mind could not be confined to thinking about him. Her eyes were watering as she tried to force more memories to come to surface. She need to remember, she needed to remember her life. She needed to become Hermione Granger again, Hermione Granger was competent and knew who the dark lord was. The dark lord who had basically taken over the Wizarding world as far as she knew in the future.

She heard the pitter patter of an approaching person. She turned and saw Riddle, in his perfectly clean and tidy robes and uniform completed with porcelain skin and heavy steel eyes. Something about him made her feel trapped.

The Slytherin heir saw the pacing girl, her curly hair bouncing along with her. In a worn set of Hogwarts robes and a gold chain around one of her hands clasped behind her.

Tom did not believe Dumbledore about how she came to Hogwarts. Maybe some of it was true, but there was definitely more that he wasn’t saying. Did Dippet know? If Dippet knew Tom would find out. But if Dippet didn’t know then Tom would have to find out by himself.

Well, Tom considered, what if ‘Monica’ didn’t have magic, her family was on the run because she herself was a squib. Her parents hiding her, etc. etc. The wand could be her father’s. It would explain why Dumbledore would still hold out hope for his being alive. Grindelwald wouldn’t keep a useless muggle around, not when it was better to dispose of him. Being efficient is the only way to achieve _anything_ , Tom thought.

He smiled when she saw him. She stared back at him, eyes wide. Apprehensive of everything, _just like someone would be if their whole family was killed because of them_.

“Mister Riddle,” She smiled weakly.

“Please call me Tom, Miss Wilkins,” _Do you have any basic courtesy._

“Well then,” and she chuckled and shifted into someone else. She didn’t wear it as well as Tom wore his but she put it on quickly. Tom would give her that. “Please call me Monica.”

“Not Monnie?”

“Only my friends call me that, and forgive me _Tom_ , but I don’t feel like I know you well enough to call you my friend.”

“Well maybe then in the future.” He started walking, he didn’t see her tense when he said ‘future’, “This way, _Monica.”_

“Maybe in the future…” she smiled cautiously and followed him down the hall.

“So how much do you know about Hogwarts?” He asked, an innocuous enough question.

“Um, could you just give me the whole enchilada spiel on this place.”

Tom whipped his whole head at Monica. Whatever did she mean.

She blanched and said “uh- its a french dish. Served at debutantes 16th birthdays. Large, filled with many things, absolutely delicious. You need a good chef to make it good so um- its a saying- um- _I_ did not make it up. Madame Eileen… Spice of… Twink-eel-Dexy shared the saying with me and um y’know, she’s _Madame Eileen Spice of Twinkledexy_ , and so like- _she_ knows her language… ...anyways, I know nothing- basically _nothing_.”

She refused to look Tom in the eye. Stared right in front of her bravely and proudly.

Every second that Tom was around her he was more and more sure of her benality.

She was not a witch, not extraordinary like a witch. She was messy and loud, a bad liar who held a wand like a foreign object.

What was she doing here? Tom’s jaw tightened as he stared at the girl.

There was something about her, Tom would relent, that was enthralling. And his eyes would stone on her just to gaze at her bespeckled brown eyes. But of course Tom Riddle must have a gourmet palette and this girl was plain. So he flared his nostrils, chalked it up to the strange circumstances of her arrival, and tried to pry as many secrets from her graceful- but twitching fingers.

“How are you doing without your family? Did any of them go to Hogwarts?”

“No, my mother-” Tom noted a tremble in her voice as she said this “-went to Beauxbatons and my father was a muggle.”

 _How similar_ , Tom thought, to have a witching mother but a muggle father. Except, unlike this girl, he did not fall into the ordinariness of the paternal.

She looked at him, as they were walking, with those round inquiring brown eyes. “Aren’t you going to tell me about Hogwarts, Tom?”

Tom exhaled, he had plenty of time to interrogate this girl. He would practice Legimilicy on her later, he decided, his voice going monotone he started“Indeed Monica, Hogwarts was established in-”

“990-- I- I know.” she interrupted, apparently not enthused by his lack of rapture. She stared at him challenging him and suddenly he was very aware of their height difference. He noticed that she was too, judging by the sudden flush in his cheeks.

Before he got to ask how she knew that if she had previously stated that she knew nothing a 3rd year’s scream pierced through the shuffle of Hogwarts.

They both turned to see a Ravenclaw boy flying upside down, apparently held by his ankle swinging around- drenched in black ink. Another boy rounded the corner that the nauseous looking Ravenclaw had swung from covered in red paint- it was too light to be blood.

Hermione was off before he was towards the two. Not to be up showed Tom followed suit racing towards the flailing boys who were getting dangerously close to the railings. They were both blinded by the ink. The ravenclaw’s ankle was floating higher and even before they reached the scene Ms. Wilkins had her wand out. 

She twirled it like nobody's business, landing the boy with a twitch of her wrist and cleaning the boys in half that time. _All non-verbally_ , Tom thought. 

“Are you all right,” She asked the Ravenclaw who had floated like a feather to the ground, unharmed. She kneeled over him

The boy looked rather like was going to vomit. Tom wouldn’t have gone near him, but he supposed she had covered someone else in vomit that day, maybe it was fair. Instead Tom tended to the loud Gryffindor, who was staring at the wall in front of him, gripping a railing behind him.

“W-where’s- where’s Willas?”

Tom crumpled his brow- Willas Travers? A Slytherin Second year if Tom knew his house. But he was nowhere to be found-

“AHHHHHHHHH”

Tom saw Willas Travers falling and had his wand out- only a second to late.

Monica had already stopped the boy’s falling and had him instead floating onto the plateau they were situated. She guided him to where the Ravenclaw was lying down.

She cleaned him up and placed a hand on his forehead. “Are you alright? That must have been quite a scare- how did you get up there?”

Tom was stoney faced. He did not like to be wrong. And he was wrong- because the Wilkins girl seemed to be incredible at magic, so not a squib. And she had raced into action so quickly- a Gryffindor? He hadn’t asked if Dippet had sorted her- he was sure he had. But if she was a Slytherin... The thought seemed delectable. What if she had staged the incident- to make her look good. Tom would have done that. Tom wondered what type of wand she had-

“Tom,” a voice said behind him, cutting him out from his thoughts. “Someone is here to see you.” 

Avery was behind him, and with the look in his eyes he knew he had to leave Ms. Wilkins.

Even though, he realized, that he liked how his name sounded a lot more from her lips than Avery.

So many more questions. So little time. Finding answers would be a challenge. Well, maybe Monnie would be a good enchilada for him.

Madame Sinistra and several students and teachers passed their calm bodies as the chaotic groups raced up.

The two boys were unaware of what was coming and what they were putting in motion as they descended the stair case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't say what house Hermione got but I gotta keep something for the next chapter! Leave Kudos and Comments!  
> Do you guys think Draco is coming back? Soon at least?


	8. City Snow 3D Sound- Tmsoft White Noise Sleep Sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is introduced to her roommates and Tom is introduced to a change in the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy! Also this is beta'd by absolutely nobody so all mistakes are mine. Also is anyone interested in being my beta?

The girl, Forsythia, led Hermione up the stairs, her silky golden curls bouncing every step, along with babbling about the school. It wasn’t obnoxious babbling, Hermione noted, but more nervous babbling like she couldn’t stand the uncertainty of silence. 

Hermione listened intently; the words enraptured her. Each morsel of knowledge added itself to Hermione’s library of a brain. Hermione’s head had cleared, the use of magic was still ringing in her ears. She could feel herself purifying from the muddle of amnesia and lost identity. The knowledge was refreshing and Forsythia Fieldwake was a ‘three-quarter blood’, as she put it, since her mother had been a pureblood, but her father a half-blood- “but his mother wasn’t a muggle, only a muggleborn”. She was _technically_ related to Loretta Fieldwake, but Forsythia’s branch of family did not care for Loretta or her purity beliefs. Forsythia was very adamant about this. “Fieldwakes have been mixing with muggles since before Mother Shipton.” 

Mother Shipton was an English clairvoyant in the 16th century who was horrendously disfigured but predicted many historical events, Hermione recalled. 

Forsythia had made it very clear that she was not on Grindelwald’s side and fully respected Muggles. Hermione had told Forsythia the lie of Monica Wilkins and it had rolled of Hermione’s practiced lips like honey. 

“Hello, I’m Monica Wilkins. I’m a half-blood on the run from Grindelwald. My dad and group were taken but they managed some magic to send me here- since Hogwarts is the safest.” 

Hermione had tried to keep the dry humor out of the last part, since Hogwarts was evidently hiding a genocidal dark lord and within 48 hours of Hermione’s arrival already three of its students in had been mortal peril. 

Forsythia had collected Hermione after the incident with the boys. A fair crowd had gathered as Madame Sinistra had tended to the boys. The students who had been flying, unintentionally, a Ravenclaw third year, Rosen Cooper, a Slytherin second year, Willas Travers, and a Gryffindor first year, Thomas Killick. They couldn’t remember how they got there, so it wasn’t a flying experiment gone wrong. They knew that they had all started in the same place and had all gotten out of their respective classes by stating that they needed to got to the bathroom, but none of them ever made it there and only Willas Travers actually still had to use the restroom. Further than that, none of the boys even knew each other and had very different interests and personalities. 

That meant that three boys, at the same time, though they weren’t in the same classes or grade or house got up to go the bathroom, ended up in the same place and then ended up flying around Hogwarts in a way that would have deadly consequences. The paint on Thomas Killick’s face also had the intent of making Killick fly, like the other two boys, but Madame Sinistra had removed magic from the paint so that Killick would be unharmed and earthbound. 

Hermione had started to go looking for a fourth year Hufflepuff but Madame Sinistra, who apparently commanded some power, had stopped her. _It’s unlikely and we don’t want to start a panic. I’ll ask_ _Hina_ _Sugiyama_ _, the_ _Hufflepuff Head of House_ _._

Hermione was surprised by Sinistra’s competency, but Hermione could see why she was picked as the school nurse, even at such a young age. 

Sinistra had found out that Hermione was sorted to Gryffindor and had immediately handed her off to Forsythia- despite Hermione’s protests that she could help. 

Forsythia was the 7th year Gryffindor prefect- but unlike Elowen Gage or Mathilda Ainsley, the Slytherin and Hufflepuff female prefects, respectively, Forsythia did not want to be head girl. Forsythia had no great ambitions that needed ‘Head girl’ as a steppingstone. “Head Girl should go to someone who wants it. Like last year, Charlie MacDougal and Evie Tempus were Head Boy and Head Girl and when Walgbura Black saw that it was Evie she threw an absolute fit. See if it had been me, I would’ve been embarrassed and not wanted it anymore, but Evie, she handled the whole thing with grace. but like not told Walgbura because everyone deserves to see what a bitch she really is.” 

Hermione nodded when Forsythia told her this, Forsythia was looking at Hermione for approval. 

“Because Walgbura is a pure blood purist..” 

“Oh!” Hermione said. 

“Sorry, that’s my fault, I forgot that you didn’t like know anyone.” 

There was a pause. 

“Is it strange that I forgot about the Black family?” Hermione gingerly asked. 

“Yes,” Forsythia asserted but then she amended, “I mean you have gone through a lot- and haven’t even been in England but the Black family staunch pure-bloodists and they are French, I think... Their motto is even- oh what was it?” 

They had reached the top of the stairs and had stopped in front of a red door- 

Hermione’s mind was filled with spinning wheel, attempting to produce strings of knowledge. “Toujours pur- Always pure,” Hermione muttered. The spinning wheels slowed and allowed Hermione some clarity of her mind. 

“Gulping Gargoyles! That’s it!” Forsythia exclaimed, she then paused for a second looking ashamed by her words. 

“I guess I did know the Blacks...” Hermione offered. Forsythia nodded. 

The girls stood there awkwardly for a moment- both uncomfortable with their secrets. 

“Well then,” Forsythia smiled brightly, “Welcome to your new home!” Forsythia opened the red door to the dorm and Hermione felt her breath hitch. 

_Yes, home, this is home. This is safety,_ Hermione thought and wandered in. The room, like the common room and the staircase, was boldly red. Hermione felt warmth and her feet felt securely planted on the ground. 

_Yes, this is safe_. She walked past a girl lounging on her bed and another bed which was in terrible disarray and practically collapsed on the obviously unused bed. 

She lay there for a second and Hermione could feel memories pulsing right behind her mind. 

There were a couple of whispers which Hermione realized were not in her head. and she turned around and sat up. 

Forsythia who had been obviously whispering with the girl leaning on her bed turned to Hermione and smiled brilliantly. 

“Monnie, this is Izzy, she’s one of our roommates.” Izzy who had been reading closed her magazine, a Witches’ Weekly, but let her finger save her spot. 

Forsythia turned to Izzy. “Izzy, you missed quite the scene. Rosen Cooper,, Willas Travers, and, Thomas Killick all ended up with sticky ink on their face and and Willas and Darren were somehow flying. Monica here, this is Monica by the way, Monica Minerva Ginerva Wilkins, she was transported here last night, long story- she fixed the flying boys to the grown with ease. Had her wand out faster than Riddle.” 

“Sounds like Hogwarts’ type fun,” Izzy said lazily and blew a stray curl from her face. 

“Oh, Izzy,” Forsythia said. 

Izzy turned to Hermione. “So... Riddle?” 

Forsythia cut in, “Apparently he’s her guide.” 

Hermione nodded 

Forsythia grinned and continued, “and he’s the only reason why I would like to Head Girl.” 

Izzy hummed. “He is much prettier than Bogenia Flint,” 

Hermione tuned out the conversation, the hail outside had caught her attention and she stared out the window. 

She stared out the window feeling at rest, feeling familiar. 

A fuzzy feeling attached itself to her right ankle and she snapped her head and kicked her leg. Barely missing the head of a black cat. 

Izzy grinned manically, “that’s Hades.” 

“He’s our other roommate, Minthe McKinnon’s cat. Youre lucky he likes you. One time I saw him deliberately knock over an Anti-Paralysis potion that Terrence Cudworth had to turn in for his Potions final in an hour,” Forsythia informed her 

Hermione smiled softly and petted the cat. She picked him up and looked out the window and that’s when she saw the pink umbrella. 

\- 

Hermione wasn’t sure what compelled her but one moment she was warm and fuzzy with girls who seemed to like her and the next she was rushing out, grabbing a scarf that wasn’t hers and rushing through the castle. 

Her feet knew where she was heading even if she didn’t. 

The pink umbrella was struggling and seemed to be of no help to the epic hailstorm. 

Hermione ran to where she had seen him and there was a giant, about twice as tall as an average man, wrangling a bright pink umbrella. 

The epic winds did not allow him- Hagrid- to get his bearings. Hermione wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing but she felt a tug at her heart. 

She was about 10 feet away from him, but the storm made the land stretch. 

She cast a spell that her mind didn’t know to calm the storm around them and then cast a sonorous on her throat. 

“ _What’s wrong_ ” she yelled. Her voice echoed and Hagrid turned to her. 

“ _I_ _z_ _stuck!”_ Hagrid yelled back. 

Her heart was pounding, and Hermione dragged her feet through the snow, using her wand as a shield as she saw the pink umbrella would not move. 

_Why didn’t he just let go_ an intrusive thought popped into her head. 

_Oh shut up_. 

She reached the giant, who was towering over her quite significantly and hexed the umbrella. Hermione could see that Hagrid was pulling on the umbrella fervently but it was like the umbrella was glued to the space. 

Hermione’s hand started to burn and she realized the golden chain was glowing and heating up. So, in a brilliant moment of magic association she tore the golden chain from her hand and whipped it at the pink umbrella. 

Golden chain landed on it, both items fell, but the storm did not. Hermione waved her wand at the chain to come to her and then motioned for Hagrid- how did she know his name?- to come with her towards the Hogwarts castle. 

The boy shook his head, eyes widening. “’Ank you” he yelled but grabbed his pink umbrella, running off in the storm. 

Hermione wanted to chase after him but she was far too cold. 

_Coward_. 

Hermione went back towards the castle. 

She climbed the staircase and put the golden chain under her pillow. It seemed fitting. It wouldn’t do anything. Just like she couldn’t do anything. 

“Monnie,” Izzy said- or maybe it was Forsythia- Hermione couldn’t tell. She would die here. Hermione couldn’t do anything. 

“Are you okay?” 

“We saw you with Hagrid- he didn’t- I mean- he wouldn’t- I mean, I didn’t think he would’ve but- I mean-” 

Hermione cut her off, her voice unusually high, “Youre fine- I'm fine- I just, I realize I miss home and there may be no way to get back and to help-” 

_Help Draco and find the dark lord, I_ _can’t help_ _Harry, help Ron, help Ginny, help Neville, help Luna, I couldn’t even help Hagrid. Dumbledore couldn’t even help Hagrid._

Hermione snapped her head to the person to her left, Izzy. 

_Dumbledore couldn’t even help Hagrid. Help, save... Save from what_ _?_

“Do you have a piece of pap-parchment and a pen- I mean quill?” 

Izzy nodded ‘Yes’ and Forsythia rubbed circles on her back. “Monnie,” Forsythia said, “I know that I don’t know what you’ve gone through- and that I will never, hopefully.... but I want you to know that me and Izzy are here for you. We’ll listen and if anyone calls you a kook I’ll hex them. If you want to talk about things that we have no idea about, if you want to rant in French- if you know French- we'll listen.” 

Hermione chortled. “Thank you,” Hermione murmured and Izzy handed her a quill and parchment along with an inkwell and a thick book to write on. 

Hermione wrote down _Harry_ and then _Ron_ and then _Ginny_ and then _Neville_ and then _Luna_. 

“Who are they?” Forsythia said. 

“My friends,” _I think_. 

_Dumbledore couldn’t save Hagrid from whom?_

Hermione felt tantalizingly close to the answer to the Dark Lord was. 

And then the moment passed when Minthe McKinnon entered and there were introductions to be made. 

\- 

Tom stood in the gloomy hallway, thinking. 

That boy- that _second year-_ was smart for coming to him with this. This information was valuable, it was monumental, crucial to the survival of Hogwarts- and Dumbledore. Tom was the Dark Lord and he could feel power the information gave him dripping in his veins. 

_I can use this to my advantage,_ Tom thought, _I could win._

Tom conjured the image of a throne. A grand immortal throne for its immortal and eternally powerful Lord. _Him_ . They would all see. All of them. The daft bullies would grovel. Muggle, Wizard, it didn’t matter- they would beg, and Tom would relish in their pain, in their knowledge of their inferiority. Tom would reign. His parents would stare up from hell in fearful awe at what they had born. They would know what they had born. He would win. Salazar Slytherin would know in his grave that his lineage had succeeded in its goals and that it had not just born a man- it had born a _God_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys catch the John Mulaney reference?  
> Also... you know whose coming next chapter? Sexual Tension and Draco Malfoy! (But not together)  
> (Squeeee!)  
> What did you guys think? What should I add? Opinions? Predictions? Questions?


End file.
